Many Cunning Passages
by Verdot
Summary: AU A look through the memories of a character that many forgot or never heard of that appeared in BC. The all encompassing organization that is the Turks and some strange permutations that result... Veld-centric. Oh god, this story is so old.
1. gerontion

_Here I am, old man in a dry month,_

_Being read to by a boy, waiting for rain. _

_- _T.S. Eliot "Gerontion"_  
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The Turks were never heroes.

They were never soldiers, never administrators, never anything more than garbagemen and castaways. The suit was the only thing of class, the quiet acknowledgement the only thing of honor. Some were fooled. Some just... wanted that life.

I've been alive for a very long time.

Was it mako? No. I'm starting to wonder if maybe I got my age wrong when I guessed... I've always been a little older than I really am. The kid was right, but I won't ever tell him that. Suffice to say, being around as long as I have, especially the whole being dead part...

You learn some things.

Was I evil? Yes. I've done things that a person shouldn't be able to get away with unless they kill themselves afterwards and accept their torment in hell. And I did it all for no other reason than it was the thing to do. And they saw that... after a time. You couldn't be a Turk and have a conscience... not in the early days.

Some things have changed. I never thought the brat would grow into regret like he has. Or that... so many of us would survive. I expected that the kids from administration would. They're smart. Seeing as Scarlet and Reeve are still around, I was right.

But Tseng? I'd always known that there was something i more /i to that one. His shadow too. Mentors and students all mangled into one and looking up past the rubble... poetic things that always tickled me.

"So what have you been doing all this time, old man?" the ghost says to me. I can't help but smile... because here was a Turk that became a hero. He's lost that arrogant glare, that trim appearance. Just like I've long since started to go gray.

"I've been waiting for the world to end, haven't you?" Familiar chuckle and I don't really feel so old. Not quite. He always used to tell me that I shouldn't act so withered...

"Not quite."

"Well, there have been a few things of note since you disappeared..."


	2. in the juvescence of the year

People typically start at the beginning. That's not the case here. All the detail of my before life are inconsequential to the real beef of the story. It's not like I remember anyway... I've long since discovered that my brain likes to forget things that it doesn't want to remember. Maybe that's why I was able to kill so easily, for a time. But eventually an old man's sins pile up around him.

There were two people that mattered. Both were students of mine, in a way. The first one went off and got himself killed. The second one did the same thing. For women, no less.

Not that I don't like women. Quite the contrary. I'd look after the girls just as much as the boys. But there's something terribly cliched and Shakespearan about how a man throws away his life for a woman's sake that makes me tired. Life isn't that romantic picture they fool children into thinking.

I wonder if maybe part of my impression upon them did it. Always pushing them, telling them it wasn't good enough. Making heroes out of nothing more than hired help. That's what I wanted. I wanted them... to get out.

When my memory does function properly, it's deep, unyeilding. Black water that sucks me straight in. I was there to see that band of heroes stumble back into town, because one always envies what they cannot have... cannot be.

So, Vincent, did it feel good to come back from the dead? I know that when I did, it just felt like an ache. But you don't see me in the crowd gathered to watch as you all walk into town, to see if Midgar still lived.

If I recall, you didn't see me the first time I ran into you either.

I didn't need to be in Sector Five. I was done for the day, and unlike the others in my age group, I didn't go out and party. I didn't see the point... it slowed reaction times, senses. So why I was walking around? Maybe it was the walking itself. It had been a hard week... two assassination attempts and someone nearly getting themselves exploded... it was a messy not quite organization in those days.

I actually noticed his sister first. One of those types of people that didn't belong in the slums... like a porcelain doll. I held no illusions towards her... I had never had any attractions to the fairer sex. No, it was more like appreciating a piece of artwork.

"Vincent, I will be fine. Quit hovering." A dark haired boy, a gangly teenager peeked from behind a vender's stall. It was quite obvious they were related and quite obvious they were not from the slums. Their grammar was too precise. Their clothes too clean. Though, this Vincent didn't seem to have the same penchant for overly fripperous clothes like his sister. An uncommon sensibility.

"Mother told me to make sure you do not get into any trouble, Helen. And you always do. It is not hovering. It is a preemptive solution." She laughed and he scowled. Arrogant little bugger if I'd ever seen one. He was far too thin and fragile looking to properly handle a fight in this area. Fools, the both of them.

Though, the rather elegant pistol at his side would be useful. I doubted someone of such affluence could use it properly. So I figured, if only to satisfy my curiousity and to prove my point that young people needed to be escourted, I trailed them.

"Hey there, how much fer yas?"

Of course, the inevitable happened. The both of them would fetch a decent price, if only because they weren't diseased and had all their teeth. I didn't quite know why I had my gun drawn, not like I was going to interfere and possibly get in trouble for it later... I was just watching.

"Excuse me?" Helen asked, with that featherbrained sort of ignorance that only pretty girls possessed. Vincent looked a little spooked.

"What sir?" he asked. Stupid kid. He should have drawn that fancy weapon already. He should have pushed that silly sister of his to the side and made a break for it. Anything but ask questions.

"Ya and yer purty friend there. Mighty fine time. How much?" Knives were drawn. Oh, it was i this /i gang... I'd been asked on a couple occasions how much I was too. Though, these two must have been like champagne after all the beer they were used to. I was already 24 and had two gray hairs... hardly the showpiece.

"I certainly hope you are not talking about what I think you are." A gentle push on the girl and I could tell he'd done this before... such a waste. Pretty girls needed more brains. At least Vincent seemed to have some sense. Some.

Gun drawn. The gang laughed.

"Ya gonna shoot us, prettyboy?"

"No, I am going to kill you. You will not treat my sister with such disrespect."

And with that, he shot, lucky guess, the leader right in between the eyes. Helen screeched in a way that suggested she'd seen this before. But... the shot was so clean, so quick. Instinct. This kid... he was talented. I could tell that he had to be too. Seemed awful protective of that ninny at his side.

Nearly as soon as the leader was down he was grabbing her wrist and running. She didn't move as quickly as he did, but it didn't matter. The gang was a little too shocked to follow right away.

This is where I foolishly stepped in.

"Haven't I told you to stop prowling this sector like a pack of animals?" I always tried to be cordial with any transaction I made. The second, a man with a nasty scar running the side of his face that he'd gotten over a cheated hand of cards glared at me.

And he'd thought that I was quite pretty last week.

"We dun need yer shit, Turk." I shook my head... considering how the last fight went down, he i>owed /i> my most esteemed organization. I figured a warning shot to his leg would help with that.

"Godsfuckingshityoubtich!—" I cut him off before he continued with that vulgar strain of expletives. I was never too fond of the local syntax, and I wasn't going to put up with it from a two bit punk that had tried to grab my ass and buy off a couple kids that were too stupid to realize where they were.

"You will go back to your hideout, plot various ways to get back at the great Shinra corporation and not bother any more displaced children or I will aim a little higher. Is that understood?"

If you spoke the right language, you could get just about anything to happen. They backed off and I casually walked in the direction the kids had gone... much to my relief, oddly, I saw them catch a train that was heading to the upper plate. Vincent had a vice grip on his sister and was dragging her... they were close, if very different. Iron and lace, I would say if I were feeling poetic.

I wonder what she thinks of you now, Vincent. You never told me if she was still around. You don't even look that much like her anymore... losing those out of place blue eyes for haunting red ones I see now.

And like before... I disappear into the slum crowd. That dark haired girl whose bar we used to sit in sees me, and I hope she doesn't recognize me. Because last time we crossed paths... you were signing your life away. Of your own volition.

You look tired, kid. Please get some sleep.

Funny thing how an old timer like myself could never figure out when someone was following me. Watching me. Recognizing me. Did they know Veld Dragoon?


	3. i have no ghosts

The girl sees me. It's only a brief glance, but her dark eyes search me for a moment. No, we've never met, child. That's for younger Turks, who probably knew you. So I keep walking, and I can't see that bedraggled unintentional parade.

A small and firm hand stops me in my path. I suppress the urge to lash out, like I always do when people touch me. I don't like being touched, it does strange things with my mind and... I just don't like it.

"Remove your hand." It is withdrawn and I turn around, expecting a beggar or my much late executioner. But it is... the girl. How strange.

"Excuse me? Do I know you?" she has a worry filled voice, the kind that must be quite endearing if you are her friend and quite grating if you are not. She looks like she should be younger too, but for those strange eyes.

"You're a little young to. I highly doubt it," I reply in a crisp and polite manner that is befitting such a benevolent situation. Yes, it lacks the warmth that it should, but this girl is not mine, nor would I want her to be.

"Maybe you have a son or daughter I know?" Old fags like me leave no genetic legacy. And the closest to that? Maybe Tseng, but I haven't had the nerve to go and see him yet. She could very well know him, but does it matter? Not really.

"Oh... I'm sorry." She downcasts her eyes for a moment and then looks up. She's searching again and her eyes hold a momentary recognition. But it's not me she sees.

"Go join your friends, kid. You did good," I say, with nothing else for this conversation. She nods and her brows furrow as if she's still trying to figure me out. It's really not worth it, go back to your friends. And without thinking, I give a little bow before departing.

I only get a yard or so away before she's speaking again.

"This is going to sound strange, but... there's a Turk... his name was Tseng... did, did you know him?" I turn around too quickly and I know I'm caught. She smiles.

"Did you?" I am careful to use the past tense. Very few know just how many of the Turks survived, and I am a wealth of secretive information. Unlike Tseng, who was carved for excellence in execution of task and unlike Vincent, who was built for killing, I was always the informative source.

Always a little nosy. A little curious.

She nods slowly. Another girl? Tseng, you certainly got around, didn't you? "He... well, you remind me of a story of his, that's all." People with such empathic perception are uncommon in any age. Oh, I bet she was such a pretty little spy back before the Midgarian apocalypse.

What was it you said? About things you wanted to protect and couldn't, Tseng?

"I... I should get back before Barret wonders. I'm Tifa, if you should ever want to... reminisce." Her long hair swings behind her as she walks and I'm left to my failing nerve and images of older times. I don't leave her with my name, and I don't think she was looking for one. Must have spooked her with something. No idea what.

No, the woman you were protecting was very different. And old lovers have such a different way of running into old teachers. I was the only one that ever had the privilege of seeing you break down.

You never drank, on the few occasions I went with the others to the bar. I had always appreciated your candor, your dedication to your work. Maybe it was that little bit of my younger self that I saw in you, maybe it was that you behaved like I'd always wanted Valentine to act.

"Reno and Rude are destroying things again," he said, carefully looking over his shoulder, neat ponytail shaking with the sudden movement. I hadn't really been paying attention to anything, considering they'd dragged Trip and Anna in barely alive. Tseng had only been leader for a month then, and it wore on him as much as me.

And not being out in the field... well, my hands were shaking. I itched to go out and protect them. My children, you could say. I wanted to yell and scream at them for their failure. Except, it wasn't their failure to get injured like that...

"Sir? Can I... can I ask you something?" Tseng had turned his attention away from the mayhem, and his attention was fully upon me.

"What is it?" I had already told him of his failure. The after time spent in this smoke filled bar was my penance.

"Has the job... has it ever gotten in the way of something you wanted to... protect?" I had a ready response for that. Utter denial, complete rhetoric.

"There should be nothing standing in the way of your work. Any ties that you have... break them. You can't be a professional and a romantic." His eyes hardened for a moment, and I couldn't help but wonder if I'd hit the point a little too hard. I had done it, and so would my protégé. It was the order and cycle of things.

It was the order.

"But... what if it's... wrong?" The whiskey throated jazz singer hit a high note and the rest of the crowd stopped drowning in their booze. The odd silence in her vocal reverb didn't help my already shaking hands.

"Redefine it, then. Or... forget." I wanted to tell him to run away from this life, if he was already thinking like that. Tseng was far too young to sound like an old man. He was far too young to start with, a little war prisoner that had decided he had seen the light.

And he _believed._

He nodded and I knew there would be no further argument. Tseng never argued, and up until five minutes ago, he had never asked a question like that. There was a measure to their lives, all the kids, that I had missed and was still missing.

"You have nothing to worry about, sir," he mumbled before breaking up the potential brawl that Reno was in the middle of. A sense for trouble, I'd taught him that until it was instinct.

Funny how now I don't even notice when an odd girl walks up behind me. Or even the change in my surroundings as I walk to the Tower, out of rote and nothing else.

"Sir?" That sense of being followed had never left me, not in the entire time I watched the heroes, not in the entire time I walked back to hell. I may not notice the girl, but I'll always notice an assassin.

"You have a clean shot," I answer. They had survived; there was no real point in me sticking around like this.

"I'm not here to kill you," he steps out and I should have known this whole time.

"Hello, Tseng. You're looking well."


	4. signs are taken for wonders

"You knew I was following. You let your guard down for nearly an hour and then you tell me I have a clean shot? You sure you're Veld or am I following his idiotic ghost?"

"Nice to see you too. Oh, and you shouldn't have put your gun down quite so soon. I am me, and as such I am far too armed for a normal person."

Hello, son.

I don't ask. I want to say I warned him for all that has and will befall him. We stand in guarded positions like territorial dogs. I'm in his turf now, he's the alpha. Only this is stiffened by formality when I should be proud that he'd managed to track me, despite wanting to be found.

"I... you... where have you been all these years?" It's a question that he doesn't want the answer to. I can see it in his face.

"Where is your team? Hiding in the bushes?" I wonder briefly if they'll reinstate my warrant, because I taught Tseng well enough to follow that protocol. I wasn't the first man to come back from the dead.

"We're... not quite altogether for the moment. Elena and I were separated, and... well, there might not be a Shinra to go back to." A little blonde head peaks out from a building, and for a moment I think it's Anna, but I saw Anna die. And this one's eyes are brown, not blue. Just a doppelganger.

"Can I come out now?" she says and Tseng half smiles. Oh, so this must be his rookie. I'm glad he finally found someone to look after, someone to follow him around for a change. It's the order, the cycle of things. Apprentice and master. No entanglements, hopefully, but often there are. It's easier to tell a person to unattach than it is to unattach yourself.

Another girl that doesn't look like she fits into this world of guns and corporate intrigue. Or wait; is that how it's going to be?

"Elena, this is my old friend Veld, former head of the Manufacturing Research Department." I got accustomed to the Wutain greeting as it involves no contact. That, and in the history books, I found it to be the most worthy culture of a displaced man such as myself.

Elena responds in kind. Tseng is a good mentor, I think. I can see the age in him; it has relaxed and hardened him. It's in the glint of his eyes and the way he keeps his hair now. I think he finally grew up.

"It's nice to meet you, Elena." She's a little nervous, but the whole effect of the age we are faced with has kept her battle ready. I'm confident she could draw that standard issue handgun from her side with ease and practiced accuracy. She is Tseng's protégé... I would accept nothing less from her.

The pleasantries were over now. Tseng straightens his posture and Elena glances over and does the same. There are going to be talks of business, and I'm not sure I want to be a part of them. I didn't leave out of desperation; I am very much done with Shinra. I will be very much done with Shinra until the day I die.

"We... we are looking for the President." I knew that was coming. I had hoped it wasn't but he was the one that had taught Tseng about duty. Loyalty. Even if a time ago... it had been in question. But this was Tseng, all grown up and no illusions to where the power lay. Maybe he held a weakness for the brat king, but I doubt that.

"Then I wish you luck. I must be going then." Elena gives him a confused look, and to his credit, he still stays professional about it. Life isn't fair, kid, but you have no idea how glad I am to see you alive. To see you fully grown up. Whatever fool parents abandoned you are hopefully rotting in hell.

"You can help us, you know."

No, I can't. You weren't in that room, kid. You also don't know some of the things I know. Theoretically I am supposed to be dead. I was _shot_ even.

But you weren't there, kid. I'm glad you weren't.

I still don't know what started the chain of events... most likely something I said, something I indicated. I was slowly growing a conscience, and I think that Shinra knew it; I could see it in the shade of his smirk, the look in his eye. I was going to be replaced even before my due, and I knew it.

And so came the day he called me on it. Funny thing about that day, it being the anniversary of one of Shinra's debacles. It wasn't a big one either... just a Turk gone missing and a scientist dying from an experiment. But it troubled me, how it all got hushed so quickly. Hojo certainly seemed different afterwards. We were hardly friends, but sometimes he'd tell me a couple of fun Wutain tidbits and I would share an odd article or two.

But there was something... haunted, fanatical about him. Something had gone more wrong than a dead scientist and a missing Turk.

"So, Dragoon, how are things in your department." Shinra always strode into my office without warning, but he owned the place, it made sense. Never said I liked it, though. Damn weird and creepy.

"Good, sir. Many fine young Turks these days."

The look, that shadow of a mustache colored his smirk darkly, and I almost drew my gun. I was already an old man... there would be no honor or dignity to this. This wasn't Wutai; this wasn't even the little place of order in my brain. This was Shinra. And I had outlived my usage.

"How about you take it easy for a while... let someone else take over your job" forever "for a while. You look tired." I was tired. But that didn't mean I was useless. There were no more left from my original group... did they always cast off old veterans like ailing pets?

"Sir, I would like to respectfully disagree—"

"That's not a request, Dragoon. You're to clear out this office by tomorrow."

I could have killed him, there was nobody else left on the Turk floor, nobody to witness, I was armed, I could get a clean shot... but there was no honor there. And I would be damned if the very organization that made me was going to make me stoop to the level of a common criminal. I regretted every kill I ever made and didn't all the same. No difference between my twisted morality and duty.

"Veld!" Tseng's urgent voice brings me back out of memory. I almost go to guard position, but he simply caught me drifting off. Elena looks confused, but that calculating kind that comes with the less ignorant.

"You can look for him fine and well on your own. I'm not a Turk anymore, kid. Not my duty, it's yours. I won't stand in your way, though." I want to, because I can't believe it in anymore and I can't be in your world or anyone else that would matter.

Rufus, a little brat of a kid, I always thought, sneering at me. It took them two months to track me down, because I wouldn't take the little shit job they offered while I "took a break." They'd sent my own kids after me, though, considering how long they took there was some breaking of orders.

You weren't there either, Tseng.

So how did I live? Considering I was cornered by the Prince of Shinra himself? Well, I never believed in miracles until then, but one did happen...

Turns out the kid aimed just a little off. I was dead for a minute or so, just enough time for him to check me and take off; leaving me like the trash he most likely thought I was. I didn't see a light, I didn't see a darkness... it was just... nothing. And then I heard a voice.

"Wake up."

I blink, and I realize Elena was talking to me. She looks at me angrily, and I'm at a loss. I'm just a silly old man who forgets what day it is sometimes and nearly has a heart attack when someone brushes up against him. I'm not worth your anger, kid.

"You're... some legend."

"Elena!"

It's strange, what the years can do. The people you meet, the situations you are in. Maybe I've been a little cowardly lately; maybe I've forgotten my reasons, maybe... I've been brooding for nothing.

Maybe... maybe I have to go and find a _reason_.

"Let her be. She's a smart kid, Tseng, you did good." He did good. I have yet to do good, and well, I guess it was time to get my due.

I just wonder how pissed off he's going to be.


	5. after such knowledge, what forgiveness?

I was stalling.

Word of the heroes buzzed around Edge, what people were starting to call the habitable portion of Midgar. I walk in amongst them, catching the gossip as it passes. Old women waggling their tongues and children fighting with sticks... the coverage around the crater, as well as the risky expose regarding the great General Sephiroth left an impression on everyone.

"...cut it right in half! The sword is massive..."

"...totally hot. I mean a figure like that? Gods, and she's real sweet too..."

"...creepy, man. Really. I mean, like some kind of vampire or..."

There it is. The right tidbit. I can't help but chuckle at the "vampire" comment. They should have seen him when he was younger, gods, back during our steakouts. They should have seen how easy it was for him to assume the role of punisher, deliverer...

The red eyes suit him far better than those innocent blue ones ever did. I wonder if they took my killer and made it physical... what would I look like then? Certainly not this tired old man that I see in the mirror every morning. Would I even look human?

Ah, I don't need thoughts like that. So I stroll a bit more, until I can pinpoint the location of a makeshift home of some kind. A half building that had all sorts of things propped around it to make it into a real building. To keep out the rain, which could properly hit what is left of Midgar... since now the sky is free.

I can almost hear what seems to be a near family of people. An older man cursing and ranting, a younger one responding in full force, a pleasant woman's voice in between.

Then there is the bullet whizzing past my ear. So the rumors were true.

I duck, roll, do whatever fancy maneuver it used to be called to get the hell out of the bullet's way. Yes, I'm a little old, and my bones feel a little funny when I do that. No more shots fired for now, though and I take the opportunity to show my appreciation.

"You gonna come out from that hiding spot, Valentine! Are are you going to hide and take cheap shots!"

Alright, this shot is aimed for somewhere lower. Think before you speak, Veld, geez. Didn't you just tell Tseng to take the open shot? Then again, things were always different with Valentine. Never did trust him, did you?

"Very funny! Will you STOP with the creepy sneakiness!"

A flutter of red fabric in the corner of my eye and my old fashioned pistol is in my hand, taking a couple of cheap shots myself. No, I'm not _really_ trying to hit him. Though if I clipped him in the leg or something equally nonvital I wouldn't cry over it. I mean, it's been a couple decades since we've been aware of each other's pulses... does he really have to hold grudges for _so_ damn long?

"I'll shoot you until you stop with the inhuman fluttering!"

He stops then, after another bullet flies by, and I get a good look at him. So full of darkness and brooding... or at least that's the image he wants everyone to see. Really, growing your hair out and putting on an extra high cowled cloak does not make you gothically pitiable. Not Vincent Valentine, at least.

Though, judging by the expression on his face, it is safe to assume that yes, he's _still_ holding a grudge.

And he's out of bullets. Should carry more than a pea shooter, Valentine.

"You're out. I still have two. And you look like I just stepped on your sandcastle. Really, Valentine, I figured you'd be a little happier to see me."

"And I figured you were dead, Veld."

He stands there, and I sit, having long given up on fully standing when he shoots like a maniac at me. He only has one arm so I won't be cruel and shoot the other one, but he _does_ however have two legs. Two bullets... two legs...

Well, I figure I've done enough to him for a lifetime or two.

"I was. Then again, weren't you?"

"Very funny. Are you done yelling now? Is the General going crazy and summoning Meteor my fault too?" That same unblinking stare. The red eyes really do suit him, they're almost too perfect on him. The clothing is a little much, but he never did wear his uniform properly.

"Almost. Fault by association, but you're clearly more angry about this than I am."

"...You were wrong, you know." I really must have been, to get an admittance like this so soon in this argument. The great Dragoon and Valentine arguments used to last for months nearly. Well, this one has lasted for years.

"Was I really? Then what do you call that crazy trying to kill me stunt!" I still have my pride, despite having won the wickedest fight of this unholy century by simply reappearing at the right moment? Was there a catch to this?

"Of course. You, Hojo... do you _honestly_ think I was stupid enough to get that much involved with a member of the group I was assigned to protect? That I had in fact shirked off everything you had ever taught me for a nice pair of legs?"

Alright, so he does have a point. Maybe I had not in fact won this grand argument.

"You've been known to do worse things..."

"Oh shut up."

I do shut up. For a moment I stop all the yelling going on in my head, the nearly homicidal... anger. He makes me angry by existing. Hasn't always been that way but seeing him, looking nearly the same but not quite... one photo negative on top of the other.

You shouldn't have gone to Nibelheim, kid. And I shouldn't have sent you. And we shouldn't keep shooting at each other like children. The threats, the insults, the fighting... we've _lived_, Vincent. We've _survived_ the Company, the fucking end of the world.

"...You were wrong too."

Remember the first time you argued with me? You were standing outside the boss's office, having gotten your way past the lobby with the right words, and were waiting to sign your life away. He called me in to evaluate you, to see if I needed a team member because my opinion... I never quite knew why it mattered. And I said you were too young, though I'd seen you were far more capable than most people already employed.

And you replied, "As if you did not begin this job at a highly illegal age."

I think I hated you immediately. Your stance, your mechanical skill, even the way you did your hair. And I said you were fine, only on the account that I wanted to be the one to see you when you were disciplined, broken down from that terribly arrogant and unruly state.

Well, you're broken down now Valentine... hardly any more disciplined, just as arrogant, only you've got ghosts and demons and one really strange getup. I got to see it, and does it matter? No, not really. That's an awful lot to give up to let an old man say, "I told you so."

I pull the remaining two bullets from my gun, call it a gesture of good faith if you will. I have two more firearms on my person, so it's not really that much disarming. I'm sure Valentine has more under that cape of his. But his eyes follow as they drop to the ground before I reholster the weapon.

"...They're trying to find the President, you know." I really didn't have a side in this particular conflict, did I? No, my kids were all scattered, all blown around with different names and acronyms... it is hard to keep up.

"I am not staying with these people for long."

Are we two to go gallivanting off like a pair of rebels from the old stories? Or two samurai, like the readings I prefer? Because if we leave this behind, we leave it well armed and with no lingering attachments. Valentine was never at an equal standing with me, I was always the team leader, the section leader, the latter Turk leader. He never made it past my underling, so how did I know he wasn't falling into old patterns?

"What do you want, Vincent?" I never use first names... too personal. Not unless that's all a person gives me. Women usually do that, but they're naturally more social, more intimate creatures. Maybe that's why I always shy from them. Always have.

"Vincent, do you know where, oh my. I didn't mean to—"

"Are you in need of my assistance?" He is quick and to the point, not leveling the girl with as hard a stare as I expect from him. She's nice enough, and I know he has a weakness for kind women. But no, this argument is said and done, no use bringing up another one.

"I was just looking for Cid. He's usually pestering you, so I just figured you might know. Oh, and Cloud wants to talk with you." I recognize her now, the very same girl that had pestered me earlier. And she recognizes me and gives me that wide-eyed stare of someone that only fights for survival. Fearsome, I bet, but there is no monster lurking within her.

"No, he is not here. Tell Cloud I will be there in a few minutes." She disappears back into the shelter quickly, like her intrusion is the worst crime she's ever committed. No, there are worse things, kid.

"You can't just up and leave this, you know."

We're standing that distance apart that suggests uncomfortable familiarity. Comrades that know a little too much about each other to be entirely professional, but never truly friendly enough to stand around like normal people. He, for all his suspension in past times, is starting to show his age. Differently than I do, of course, but it hangs from the edges of his already worn cape.

He went off and found a cause to fight for without me.

"I know."

There isn't much else I wanted to do since coming back from the dead. I see that Tseng is grown up, Valentine is no longer truly angry with me. I am not angry, just tired. Time for me to exit the stage, maybe find a place to live, read some books. I have nothing more to offer the world other than to undo all the things I've done… and that never happens.

This is where I walk away.


End file.
